Liberation Day - A Thorn Byrd Novel

by Dustin Stevens

The black marble table was much larger than the last time Ingram was there, but otherwise the room was exactly the same. The men that comprised the board sat in a single file along the far end, spaced equidistant apart and branching from one side of the room to the other. Each wore some variation of the same uniform, dark suits with white shirts and power ties of assorted designs.

  The only difference Ingram noticed at all was the fact that the men seemed to be wearing a bit more strain, even though they had been seated for just a couple of minutes.

  The summons had seemed a bit unusual to Ingram, arriving just moments after his return to the capitol. A voicemail was waiting on his phone as soon as he stepped off the plane, a sharp automated whippoorwill call letting him know it was waiting.

  The directive had been simple enough, requesting that he come in person to headquarters that evening for a meeting. He was told it would be brief and that business attire would not be necessary, though he knew better than to fully believe either.

  Now seated before the board, he still had no idea what purpose his being there was meant to serve. Just days into their official employment, both he and Thorn were both still getting their feet under them. They each had extensive training yet to complete, a new base of operations and communication pattern to establish.

  Given that, the only thing he could figure was that the board had changed their minds, opting to cut things short before anybody became too vested. The thought brought a roiling sickness to his stomach as he sat and stared at the men settling in before him, heightening as he pondered having to break such a decision to Thorn.

  Ignored by the others in the room, Ingram was left alone with his thoughts, his suit jacket becoming hotter with each passing moment. He could feel sweat beginning to line his back, his dress shirt sticking to it each time he moved even a fraction of an inch.

  His wait ended at eight o’clock sharp, cut off by Stepoli raising his right hand, waiting as the room fell into silence. Once he had the complete attention of all present he cleared his throat, a small guttural sound in the quiet room, before beginning.

  “Thank you for being here. We realize the request came rather suddenly, but I assure you it is with good reason.”

  Ingram dipped his head forward just a fraction of an inch, enough to acknowledge the comment without saying anything.

  “As I’m sure you are aware,” Stepoli continued, “the people that contract with us are assured of the utmost privacy, something that is best preserved by meeting in person whenever possible.”

  A hint of confusion passed over Ingram’s face as he stared back at them. While he and his charge were by no means ready to begin, it sounded as if a case was being assigned to them.

  Before he could voice a question or await further explanation, the sound of the wooden double doors opening behind him could be heard. Through them passed the clear din of high-heeled shoes walking along marble floors, the steps rhythmic and even.

  Without turning around, Ingram waited as the steps grew closer, culminating in a raven-haired secretary appearing by his side, a single folder in hand. She passed it over to him without comment and took three steps back, waiting with her hands clasped before her.

  Turning to face front, Ingram fought to keep his face neutral, placing the file down on the table.

  “Please,” Stepoli said, extending a hand out before him, motioning for Ingram to open it and take a look inside.

  Very thin, the unmarked blue folder held but a single piece of paper. It was attached to the folder by a pair of folding metal clips, a generic letterhead spanning the top.

  His heartbeat increasing again, Ingram glanced up at the board before skimming over the page.

  To Whom It May Concern:

  On June 9th, our company was contacted about possible employment. The contact originates in Boston, Massachusetts and was referred to us by a reliable client. The referral has been cleared from any suspicion of foul play.

  The case presented would be conducted in the greater Boston area. It would involve working the shipping and receiving docks of Dorchester Harbor and hinge on negotiating a place within the cartels found there. As with most of our jobs, there is a high level of danger attached.

  All relevant details will be rendered once acceptance is assured. At that time, a full briefing and access to all necessary resources will be made.

  There was no closing of any kind, just three short paragraphs of text. Ingram scanned it twice before closing the folder and sliding it across the table as the secretary stepped forward and took it back up. She exited without comment, her shoes echoing through the room before being swallowed by the banging shut of the heavy wooden door behind her.

  Leaning forward, Ingram laced his fingers atop the table, staring back intently at the men across from him. Each one met his gaze in full, their expressions ranging from impassive to forceful.

  Once the secretary was gone, Stepoli began anew.

  “We know you and Byrd are both just days into the company, but this came about rather suddenly. It is bad for business for us to have operatives sitting idle, but it does call for the occasional moment such as this.”

  Ingram waited a long moment for more explanation and when none was offered prompted, “A moment such as this?”

  “They need somebody, and they need them now,” Stepoli said, shoving the words out without pause. It was apparent he was the only one to do any of the talking, the other men looking between him and Ingram like a crowd watching a tennis match.

  Just hours before, Ingram had been sitting on the plane, thinking of how he wanted to structure Thorn’s training. Unlike many of the recruits that were brought in, he had the benefit of military training behind him.

  Contrary to them, that meant his skills were of a markedly physical nature.

  Even more than that, the last time Ingram had seen Thorn he was in no state to be starting a first assignment.

  Across from him Stepoli waited, seemingly assessing Ingram, watching for a response. When none came, he pulled a matching folder over in front of himself, this one much thicker than the one Ingram had been given. He flipped it open and removed the top page, holding it at arm’s length and reading aloud.

  “Preliminary research indicates that this is a case calling for a young male with a maximum age of thirty-seven years old. No additional language proficiencies are needed, nor are any technological skills. Assignee will, however, need to be competent in physical combat and the handling of a firearm.”

  There he stopped and looked up, pausing for emphasis. Running the list in his mind, it was obvious Thorn fit the bill thus far, though that did little to quell the apprehension within Ingram.

  “Also, the assignee must be a person of Irish heritage, or have the ability to assimilate therein.”

  Stepoli paused again, closing the file before him. He shoved it a few inches away and folded his hands, staring back at Ingram.

  “Obviously, based on the early assessment, you can see why we had your team in mind.”

  Unsure if it was a question or a statement, Ingram nodded his head, remaining silent.

  “After discussing matters, the board determined that Mr. Byrd’s skill set, as one-sided though it may be at the moment, was very well suited for this kind of assignment.”

  Again Ingram nodded, already thinking what Stepoli had said. Apparently the other aspects of Thorn’s skill set would have to be shored up in the future.

  “Due to the extremely fast nature of this request coming in, and the fact that you two have not had time to properly assimilate yourselves,” Stepoli continued, “this one time you have the right of refusal.”

  The poignancy of the statement wasn’t lost on Ingram, who fought back a smirk at the wording of it. In the future, they would do what they were told when they were told, but for the time being they could at least pretend to have some say in the matter.

  Ingram waited a moment to see if Stepoli was done before pressing his lips together and scanning the length of
the board. While he and Thorn were just getting started - and they had had very little contact over the preceding years - this case seemed to be the best possible place for them to start. It was housed on familiar ground, using skills that should come naturally to Thorn.

  All six men sat in silence as Ingram ran the paces in his mind, only Birkwood giving any sort of outward response, a small sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  Defiance rising within him, Ingram met the look, matching it with an unmistakable glare.

  “Neither one of us do well with down time,” Ingram replied. “This is as good a place to start as any.”

  Chapter Fourteen